


Strategy

by RoseCathy



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseCathy/pseuds/RoseCathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the <a href="http://starbuggers.livejournal.com/317.html">Red Dwarf Kink Meme</a> on LiveJournal.<br/>Prompt: “Lister is obsessively tactile, but for Rimmer, it’s words that really turn him on. I’d like to see how they compromise…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strategy

“You can’t be serious.”

Lister could not imagine how the Risk campaign book, quite possibly one of the unsexiest things that Rimmer owned, would fit into their plans.

Rimmer just smiled at him in that special way that no one else saw or pictured — part visual equivalent of a hair-ruffle (or dreadlock-tug, in Lister’s case), part leer. “Don’t you trust me?”

“There’s trust, and then there’s sharing all your weird hobbies,” Lister began, then decided to be more accurate. “I mean, some of your hobbies, I can appreciate,” he amended, recalling the cool smoothness of a tie across his eyes and the rougher feel of a kerchief on his wrists, or had it been the other way round? And the relief when his hands had finally been free to roam.

Anyway, it was second nature now, shifting to fit their bodies together and into the bunk. Lister automatically moved his legs to accommodate Rimmer, who was straddling him with the campaign book in one hand and a pen in the other. “If it makes you feel any better, we’re not playing Risk. The board would get in the way.”

“Too right - hey!” Lister exclaimed as his hands, which had been on their way to an interesting place, were pushed down onto the mattress.

Rimmer released his hands and opened the notebook. “Do something for me,” he said quietly.

“I was about to,” Lister grumbled.

“Something else.” There was the smile again. Lister sometimes thought he was getting too old for the butterflies and thudding heartbeats, but hell, this was exciting. Being with Rimmer was exciting, unbelievably enough. “I want to make a list. All the things you’d like to do, where and how…then we can do them. But not before.”

Hm. Hmm.

“Don’t you think you’re taking this - ” — Lister gestured at the notebook — “ - too far?”

Rimmer frowned at him, evidently exasperated. “Writing it down will help me remember. Could we get back to the matter at hand now?”

Lister indulged in an internal giggle at the hint of desperation in Rimmer’s voice. “Kiss me, then. You don’t need to write _that_ down.”

Rimmer put his hands on Lister’s again while they kissed, preventing them from wandering into his hair or down his back. Lister tried to compensate by pressing and wriggling upward. He moaned more loudly than was strictly warranted, too, to express how desperate he was getting as well. The scratch of the notebook against his hand was definitely not helping.

“Come on, man,” he pleaded, half-laughing, half-whining, when Rimmer broke away and sat up again.

“Items, Dave.” The bastard had stopped all movement and was holding his pen at the ready.

“Okay, okay.” Lister took a deep breath, rearranging his ideas for the evening into something resembling order. “Item number one.”

“Yes?”

“Number one…” He grinned. _Oh, I can play this game too, Rimsy._ “I want you to suck me off. And two, I want to have my hands in your hair while you’re doing it.”

Rimmer scribbled something in the notebook, then looked up. “Would this be with or without other activities beforehand?” he enquired coolly, as though they were discussing the next round of repairs to be made to the ship.

“You’re kidding.”

“I like to have all the details.”

“You’re very strange, you know that?” Lister rolled his eyes heavenward. “All right, then. _With_ …you starting at my neck and moving down, nice and slow.” _Smeg, that should be good…_ “I want…I want you to lick me all over.” He exhaled, trying to steady himself. Images of what he’d just described were popping up in his vision, but more than that, he could already _feel_ the lips skating down, down to just where he wanted them, the lash of a tongue around the head of his cock, and then…he realised that Rimmer had stopped writing and was watching the rapid rise-and-fall of his chest with an unholy twinkle in his eyes.

“Anything else?”

“You’re strange,” Lister said again in a bid to get some dignity back. “No, I - I think that’s enough to start with.”

“Fine.” Rimmer looked over the list, apparently nodding at each item and committing it to memory; Lister couldn’t help a tiny, impatient sigh. 

Finally, _finally_ , Rimmer tossed the book and pen onto the floor and leaned down. Lister found the first touch of lips to his neck electric, as he did being able to use his hands again. He closed his eyes and concentrated on textures: curls between his fingers, smooth heated skin under his palm. The soft, short puffs of breath on his skin, which meant Rimmer was enjoying this too instead of holding back for the sake of the game. Or so he thought.

“What are you doing?” Lister demanded, glaring into the face that had stopped very close to its destination.

The git was smiling - no, smirking. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Rimmer!”

“ _Tell_ me.”

“Like I might kick you out of bed if you keep this up any longer.” Lister’s breathlessness negated any hope he’d had of sounding irritated. “Because you’re a bloody tease.”

Rimmer chuckled. “So you want more?”

“ _Yes_ , you smegging - ” The rest of the epithet was lost in a triumphant noise. _At last._ Soon, he had both hands completely tangled in Rimmer’s hair, pushing to get more of the hot, wet mouth that seemed capable of swallowing him whole, and words were spilling out of his own mouth. “You love that, don’t you? Taking it so deep…”

Right on cue, he felt the tip of his cock meet the back of Rimmer’s throat, and he groaned, “I bet you think about this when you’re alone, when you touch… _fuck_ …” The moans and the sucking pressure around his cock intensified to rob him of further speech. Before he knew what was happening, he was gasping and pouring out everything he had, hands still twisting (and pulling a bit cruelly, if he’d stopped to think about it) in Rimmer’s hair.

  


Lister had to admit it; the prize for playing along had been fantastic.

“Lister?” He looked down, his mind still in a fog. “Could you let me up?”

The fog cleared, and Lister was pleased to see that Rimmer no longer looked anywhere near calm or collected. In an ideal world, he would have made Rimmer wait as long as he’d been forced to, but he lacked the necessary patience. “Come here. And don’t even think about the notebook.”

He loved all of this, even when he was worn out. The sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. The warmth and weight of the cock in his hands. The puffs of breath again. What they’d just done being replayed in both their minds — of that he was certain, since he was whispering (not very coherently) about it between kisses. The sudden tension before the gush of fluid that covered his stroking fingers, before Rimmer thrashed and became helpless under his touch.

  


“You know, you can be really cruel,” he admonished Rimmer, who had somehow ended up half on top of him. He held both hands flat against the hard-light back, relishing the solidness.

“It was all part of the plan,” Rimmer murmured. “I thought my strategy was quite good, actually.”

Lister glanced down at the campaign book. “So if I looked in there…would I find other ideas?”

“Don’t you dare!” Suddenly reanimated, Rimmer rose to pin him down. “That book is for my eyes only. Besides, it would ruin the surprise if you looked.”

“Okay! I surrender! Or pledge my…something,” Lister laughed. He swatted lightly at the flesh under his palms, and when his outraged lover returned the favour, he employed a strategy of his own — starting a tickle-fight.


End file.
